


Punch a Dick For Justice (and a Hot Ginger)

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bar Fight, First Meetings, M/M, Union Organizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly is a union organizer, trying to do his job.  Bahorel is Bahorel.  This is how they meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punch a Dick For Justice (and a Hot Ginger)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for May Day because why isn't there more union organizer!Feuilly?

“So, union organizing is the reason that we have the eight-hour workday,” Feuilly says to the twenty-two-year-old college student next to him in the bar.  The guy’s got flowers in his hair, so Feuilly’d figured he’d be at least a little sympathetic.

Somebody — a middle-aged white guy with an ugly snarl — snaps from the student’s other side, “Union  _thug_.”

Two seconds later, somebody else comes out of nowhere and punches the first guy in the jaw.  This guy is built like a fucking brick house, his long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, a scar slicing his eyebrow in half and his own lips pulled back dangerously to bare his teeth.

“No, he’s a union  _organizer_ ,” the guy says, grinning wildly.  He pulls the first guy to his feet by his shirt collar.  ” _I’m_  a thug.”

That’s when the all-out brawl starts.

The student quickly pulls Feuilly behind the bar.  ”Sorry about Bahorel, he’s, uh, kind of prone to this kind of thing,” the kid apologizes.

“You know him?”

“He’s a regular,” says the bartender, an attractive woman with small hands and a voice that’s all power in an alto pitch.  ”Along with the rest of Les Amis.  I’d say you wandered into the right bar.”

The student laughs.  ”Yeah, probably.”

Eventually, the anti-union guy and three of his friends escape — because it  _is_  an escape, they definitely lost the fight — and Bahorel scans the room and meets Feuilly’s eyes.

He grins.  ”Sorry about that,” he says, and he’s clearly not sorry at all.

Feuilly can’t help but grin back.  ”It probably didn’t endear him to my cause, but thanks?”

“Anytime.”

And somehow, Feuilly winds up staying in this bar for another hour, talking to this group that calls themselves Les Amis.  They’re students, all of them, not much younger than he is, and they’re all hell-bent on changing the world.

Feuilly decides he likes them.

But he realizes, walking out of the bar, that he  _really_  likes Bahorel.  There’s something in the way the other man smirks, approving of everything while keeping that tense-tiger coil of violence under his skin.  Bahorel, he realizes, is made for moments like that barfight.

Feuilly’s never been into that, but here, he just might be.


End file.
